


But destiny, thou art beautiful

by Zoisite Ruby (andadobeslabs)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), F/M, Fictional Religion & Theology, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Spoilers for everything, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 14:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13789452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andadobeslabs/pseuds/Zoisite%20Ruby
Summary: Nymeia's mark is intended to connect soulmates together, but Urianger spends most of his life unconvinced.





	But destiny, thou art beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Typical notes apply here: all of my FFXIV fics operate under the assumption that characters are aging in real time. Therefore, the twins are at least 19/20 by the events of Stormblood.

Urianger is six years old when he first hears of Nymeia’s mark.

As much as he tries to avoid the other children on the island, he occasionally finds himself surrounded by his peers. This is one such time. A young elezen boy, a few years Urianger’s senior, holds out his ankle and points to the dark spot, a purple-ish odd-shaped bruise on his ankle. “My mother says my soulmate has this same mark, and when we meet, we’ll feel connected somehow.”

“That sounds like nonsense.” A miqo’te girl protests.

“Everyone has one. You’re either born with it, or it shows up when your soulmate is born.”

“What do they look like?” She inquires further, and Urianger pretends not to be interested in the conversation.

“I dunno, like a spot. You’d know it if you saw it.”

The girl thinks for a moment before rolling up her sleeve, showing off a raised red patch on her upper arm, just above her elbow, shaped almost like a star. “Like this?”

“Yeah, I think so!”

He scans himself as soon as he arrives home, checking for any indication of a mark on his own skin, only to find nothing. When Urianger asks his mother about her mark, she frowns.

*

He’s eight when he gives up hope.

“My sweet son,” his mother rustles the hair atop Urianger’s young head as she consoles him. “‘Tis possible your soulmate may yet be revealed in time.”

Urianger sniffles, “The text reads that a child rarely reaches eight summers ‘fore receiving Nymeia’s mark.”

She smiles sadly, “Perhaps Nymeia simply has grander plans for us Augurelts.”

Urianger scoffs. She may very well be content existing in this world without a soulmate, but he would not be. Urianger imagines the epic romances in the novels he reads, and can’t fathom a future in which he is entirely alone.

Moenbryda is alone too, not only because her skin is unmarked, but also because most of their peers find her abrasive and overwhelming. She annoys him at first, constantly asking him questions or trying to read over his shoulder, but his mother insists he gives her a chance. When he sits on the edge of a dock with his feet dangling over the edge, Moenbryda next to him begging him to read her another passage from a book she can’t read on her own, he thinks loneliness might not be too terrible of a fate.

*

He’s twelve when everything changes. Urianger and Moenbryda have snuck into the library yet again, settled into their makeshift nook on the floor between the stacks. The summer heat is sweltering, but the two of them are comfortable enough with one another that they’re hardly shy about baring skin (though that doesn’t stop a blush from creeping upon Urianger’s cheeks whenever he glances at her in nothing but her underclothes).

While he’s especially engrossed in his book, Moenbryda gasps. Urianger ignores her the first time, but she grabs the book from his hands and slams it shut, capturing his attention. “Pray tell the meaning of-”

“Your _arm_!”

His breath hitches when he spots it, tendrils of white starting at his wrist and branching out into swirls on the inside of his left forearm. Unsure of what to think, he looks to Moenbryda for an explanation, or perhaps a hint on how he should be feeling, but she seems as confused as he is. If not a bit disappointed. “This development, while unexpected, changes nothing.”

“Doesn’t it, though?” Moenbryda pouts. Urianger isn’t sure what the tightness in his chest is, but he knows her expression is the cause of it.

*

He’s fifteen when he decides the Nymeia has made some kind of mistake. Moenbryda tries to convince him otherwise.

“But what if you meet them? I’ve heard the pain is unbearable-”

“‘Tis unlikely, given that mine _soulmate_ ,” he says the word with a hint of disdain, “is naught more than three summers in age. At least not in the near future.” He shrugs. “Nevertheless, mine feelings for thee art stronger than any of Nymeia’s threads.”

“You say that now.” Moenbryda seems unconvinced, her eyes watery.

He answers her question with a nervous kiss, their first. When he pulls away, she stares at him as if she’s gauging his sincerity. As a response, Urianger kisses her again with more confidence and assurance, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer, on the tips of his toes trying to match her height and failing miserably.

*

  
He’s sixteen when his mother falls ill. The platitudes of her acquaintances fall on deaf ears. For every “She was so young, how tragic,” and “If there’s anything we can do,” Urianger finds himself resenting mankind more and more.

Moenbryda does none of these things and instead helps him study for his entrance exam.

The proctor says something unsavory about his mother while inquiring if Urianger shares her gift of foresight and Urianger doesn’t hold back his initial response. He doesn’t make it into the Studium that year.

_“She wasted her potential as a scholar on a meaningless romance. How can I be so sure you will not do the same?”_

*

He’s eighteen when he meets Louisoix for the first time in person. In Urianger’s second year of study, Moenbryda introduces them with a grin on her face. She insists she met Louisoix by chance, but Urianger knows she likely sought him out specifically to bring the two of them together.

Urianger is immediately swayed by his words of action, defense of Eorzea, and practical application of the knowledge they’ve been gathering in Sharlayan for centuries. Louisoix helps him understand his increasingly disturbing visions of an upcoming Calamity, something he swears that they can avoid, together.

He forgets all about the mark on his wrist, easily hidden from curious eyes by his regular robes.

*

He’s twenty-one when he stands in Louisoix’s personal study, Moenbryda by his side. As Urianger works towards becoming an Archon, he spends more and more time there. Louisoix had a personal collection of tomes, unlike anything Urianger had ever seen before.

But it’s the first time he’s been joined by guests. Louisoix seems surprised by the intrusion as well, quickly apologizing. “Pray ignore my son…”

“Father,” Fourchenault Leveilleur interrupts, “You cannot expect me to distribute this literature-”

Urianger’s arm tingles unpleasantly, and he tries not to wince. He hears other voices in the hallway, kids, and a feeling of dread immediately washes over him.

Louisoix’s eyes light up when he realizes his grandchildren are present as well. If it weren’t for the other discomfort, Urianger would feel awkward for encroaching on this domestic interaction.

Louisoix ignores his son and simply asks the two aspiring Archons whether or not they’ve been properly introduced to his grandchildren. Urianger can’t think of an excuse to leave quickly enough before the boy begins his introduction, “My name is Alphinaud and this is my sister, Alisaie.”

Urianger makes the decision to ignore the discomfort radiating from his mark and tries to fake a smile. The boy, Alphinaud, immediately begins to charm Moenbryda, while Alisaie remains silent.

“Sister, don’t be rude.” Alphinaud chides, and Alisaie scrunches her nose in displeasure before making eye contact with the two unfamiliar adults in the room. Urianger inhales sharply as his eyes meet hers, as does she, both clutching their arms at the sudden pain, and the room grows quiet with the sudden realization of what exactly has happened.

It was a somewhat common knowledge that sometimes soulmates experience a painful pull between their marks when they are nearby. At least until their aether is imprinted upon each other permanently. Words could not have prepared him for how strange and excruciating the sensation truly is.

Urianger excuses himself, quickly trying to escape both the pain and the uncomfortable silence. Moenbryda follows, tugging on the back of Urianger’s robe and pulling him around to face her.

“So… Fourchenault’s daughter then.”

Urianger wants to tell her that nothing will change, that they can continue on pretending this never happened, but he can’t lie to her. The detonation timer of their relationship has started counting down, and they are both painfully aware of it. He nods wordlessly.

Days later, he offers his resignation. Louisoix not only rejects his offer, but introduces him to his order: a La Noscean street urchin, an Ala Mhigan pugilist, a miqo’te conjurer from the colony, and a dunesfolk thaumaturge Urianger had studied under at the Studium.

Urianger and Moenbryda both accept, and the Leveilleur patriarchs, scholars capable of recognizing Urianger’s talent first and foremost, conveniently never mention the mark again.

*

He’s twenty-three, nearly twenty-four when Alphinaud and Alisaie become the youngest students to ever enter the Studium. Louisoix officially announces his intent to defect to Eorzea, bringing the best and brightest of the Archons alongside him.

Louisoix offers his Circle of Knowing secret magic to extend their youth, allowing them to remain their age forever as of 1572 and Urianger suspects that Louisoix’s reasoning extends beyond allowing Y’shtola and Thancred to maintain their vanity, but he never asks.

Urianger leaves Moenbryda behind on Louisoix’s insistence. She protests, not with him, but with Louisoix. Urianger is secretly pleased that she’ll be kept far away from danger. Especially considering her affinity for making trouble when she can’t find any.

He watches Louisoix’s goodbyes. Alisaie sobs and begs her grandfather to stay, in contrast to Fourchenault and Alphinaud who look both stoic and utterly defeated. Urianger’s heart wants nothing more for Louisoix to remain in Sharlayan and let the rest of them handle the upcoming Calamity. Fortunately, his mind is more powerful.

Urianger’s specific task is to re-arm the Grand Companies in preparation for the upcoming conflict, but his secretive nature leads to an abundance of strange rumors. Not only is it widely believed that he’s over 15,000 years old, but also that he somehow caused the Sixth Umbral Era. In everyone’s defense, he never actively protests the accusations.

If anything, he finds it sort of flattering. He hopes someone mentions it to Moenbryda.

Urianger becomes something of a scapegoat for the realm, redirecting all of the Empire’s enmity towards himself. Incidentally, he happens upon (is pursued by) an adventurer with a nearly identical mark to his own.

“I don’t suppose you’re secretly eleven years old.” The adventurer suggests, prompted by Urianger’s intent staring at their exposed right forearm. Urianger rolls up his sleeve, revealing his mark for the second time in his life. The adventurer raises their brow at the near-perfect mirror image.

“Nay, but I suspect I know the keeper of thy match,” Urianger recalls the popularly held assumption that twins often share nearly identical marks. The adventurer smirks and pulls up their shirt, showing off a big red spot on their chest.

“Happen to recognize this one?”

Urianger forgets the conversation, and the adventurer, when it all ends. Louisoix sacrifices himself to save them all and Urianger is helpless to do anything about it.

As promised, Urianger keeps Krile, and by extension, the Leveilleur twins, informed as the entire battle unfolds. But when all is said and done, it is to the two young prodigies that he writes his condolences.

_“On the broken fields of Carteneau, did my dearest mentor—thy beloved grandsire—become as light and embark upon his final journey.”_

*

While the rest of the Archons immediately begin helping rebuild, Urianger finds himself drawn back to Sharlayan. Fourchenault himself calls Urianger to his side under the pretense of helping him get Louisoix’s affairs in order. Though when Urianger arrives, he can tell his mentor’s son is desperately seeking for Urianger to make sense of the events at Carteneau, no less devastated by Louisoix’s death than Alphinaud and Alisaie are.

For a while, Urianger is able to keep his distance from the twins, wanting to spare twelve-year-old Alisaie the additional pain and confusion, but Alphinaud renders that attempt futile within days.

Before returning to Sharlayan, Urianger suspected Fourchenault to be responsible for the twins’ early admittance into the Studium. After spending numerous hours with the curious boy, however, he realizes Alphinaud is one of the most gifted children alive, if not of all time. Urianger wonders if Alisaie shares his intelligence, though Alphinaud insists her brilliance pales in comparison to his own.

He speaks, at most, a few sentences with Alisaie. No matter how intelligent or articulate Alisaie may be, she’s still a child, and the intended mechanism of the mark (to bring them together) does precisely the opposite, forcing Urianger to keep his distance.

Not to mention, he finds himself in Moenbryda’s bed on more than one occasion, and the unfortunate reality that they are not meant to last, and that Alisaie is the cause, is enough to make him resent the girl beyond reason.

When he finally decides to return to Eorzea, more than a year after returning to Sharlayan, he says goodbye to Moenbryda yet again and curses Menphina for allowing him to love someone that’s not his soulmate.

*

Year 5 of the Seventh Astral Era, Alphinaud and Alisaie arrive in Eorzea as adults, disagreement driving them apart as soon as they come.

While Alphinaud immediately starts working alongside the Antecedent, Alisaie seemingly disappears altogether.

That is, until Urianger finds himself woken up in the middle of the night by someone pounding on his door. He expects Thancred, or perhaps the Warrior of Light, but instead finds Alisaie Leveilleur, determination clear on her face.

She wastes no time with pleasantries, “I’ve been observing a waveform pattern of aether emanating from the cavern beneath Castrum Occidens.”

Urianger holds open his door, inviting her into his room. She smiles politely and steps past him, dropping a large notebook on his small desk and flipping it open to a page of her notes.

Urianger recognizes the pattern immediately, it’s the same pattern his colleagues have observed surrounding Ifrit, Titan, and Garuda’s re-emergence. He shares as much, and she nods.

“And leading up to the Calamity,” she adds. “I suspect either the Garleans are to blame, or the primal Bahamut itself.” Before he can comment, she continues. “Either way, I hoped you might be able to convince the Warrior of Light to assist me in my further research of this phenomenon. Namely, identifying the source of this aetheric disturbance and vanquishing it.”

Urianger raises his eyebrow. “My lady, thine research ‘tis undoubtedly impressive given thy limited resources,” He admits. “That said, I cannot in good conscience endorse putting thee in harm's way, with or without the Warrior of Light’s protection on thy expedition.”

“Urianger.” She holds his gaze, frustration and desperation evident in her eyes. “If Bahamut stirs, my grandfather’s sacrifice may have been for naught. I cannot allow this to happen. Not so long as I can prevent it.” Urianger grasps at his mark absent-mindedly, subconsciously hoping that contact might provide him temporary relief from his discomfort. She doesn’t let the gesture go unnoticed, sighing in annoyance. “I am coming to you, not as your _soulmate_ ,” she says the word with familiar disdain, “but as someone who loved Louisoix and his vision for this realm.”

Urianger wavers, “I shall speak with the Antecedent anon.”

“Then I shall await the adventurer in Wineport.” She collects her notes and leaves without another word, leaving Urianger, stunned by her bluntness, in her wake.

She knocks on his door in the middle of the night once more, shortly after she and the Warrior of Light uncovered the secrets buried deep beneath their feet. This time, however, she lacks the direction that guided her in their last meeting. Instead, she seems distraught.

“What ails you, my lady?”

Alisaie’s lip quivers and her eyes begin brimming with tears. “I don’t-” she hiccups, “I’m not sure what _exactly_ -” She presses her face into his chest, dissolving into sobs. He wraps his arms around her back and lets her cry, unsure of what else to do. Another unfamiliar feeling, relief, slowly replaces the ache in his arm. A muscle extended beyond its limits finally relaxing.

His mark finally ceases its endless torrent of torture, replaced by the feeling of completeness.

Alisaie pulls away, her eyes and cheeks red, but she seems noticeably calmer. “That was undignified of me.” She wipes away the residual tears, chuckling to herself. “Something just felt off, and this seemed like the right thing to do.”

Urianger suspects the thought was more of a suggestion than a spontaneous idea but keeps the observation to himself. “Perhaps the events that took place amongst the coils hath affected thee in ways heretofore unknown.”

“Perhaps.” She responds, knowingly, a faint smile on her lips. “Thank you.”

She bites her lip and nods, unprompted, before leaving again, looking back once before disappearing out of sight.

She officially moves into the Sands two days later.

*

The Scions relocate to Mor Dhona, and Alisaie remains behind, insisting she’s hardly present enough to justify moving. Minfilia confesses to Urianger that she’s pleased someone would be keeping Urianger company, but that she’s concerned a rift between the two twins is to blame for Alisaie’s reluctance. Minfilia looks to Urianger for his theory on the matter, but he feigns ignorance.

Alisaie finds more and more excuses to spend her time with Urianger as she continues to ignore the other Scions. She remains quite elusive to Urianger, much less prone to talking about herself (or bragging about her accomplishments) than Alphinaud had been. He hadn’t even known she was an arcanist until she mentions in passing that she’s always been skilled with magic but is utterly bored with the summoning of carbuncles. Urianger shows her his amber carbuncle, and for a brief period of time, she’s obsessing for days attempting to recreate it. She doesn’t succeed, but he notices there’s something different about her topaz carbuncle nonetheless.

She is more talented than she lets on.

The students of Baldesion vanish without a trace, and Ishgardian heretics threaten to summon the primal Shiva and cover up their activities by destroying the aetheryte that would grant the Scions access to their location.

Aetheryte technology is, well, Moenbryda’s primary area of expertise and as much as he hates to admit it, Urianger knows he’s out of his depth.

He invites her, and unintentionally her dreadfully short skirt, to the Rising Stones. She taunts him in front of everyone, the Warrior of Light included, and not only finds the missing aetheryte but also discovers another purpose for white auracite: destroying Ascians for good.

There’s stunned silence in the Solar of the Rising Stones as he interrupts the Scions discussing Moenbryda’s…

He can’t even think the words.

He’s somewhat relieved to hear that she forgave Louisoix for leaving her behind, in the end. Of all of the guilt he’s harbored on her behalf, not fighting to bring her to Eorzea is a large percentage of it.

Her lack of mark suddenly makes sense to him. One of the many reasons a person might be born without a mark, it is speculated, is because the person dies too young to meet their soulmate. Or, their soulmate is closer in age to their next incarnation than their current one. By dying young, theoretically, she might be finally united with her true soulmate.

That’s what everyone told him after his mother passed, at least. Though she was 4 years older than Moenbryda.

He thinks the entire theory is utterly unfounded, as no one else in the world, neither past nor future, could ever love her as much as Urianger himself did.

Thancred, in a rare moment of empathy, shows Urianger his faded mark. “She died during the Calamity, I think. I have no memory of her.”

Urianger sadly shakes his head, “Despite everything, Moenbryda and I shared not Nymeia’s mark.”

“My apologies, I assumed-”

Urianger, possibly out of his own emotional numbness, rolls up his sleeve while Thancred is speaking, stunning him into silence.

“Is that…” Thancred grips Urianger’s wrist to get a closer look. “I recognize this.”

Urianger wonders if he’s seen Alisaie’s mark.

“Has the Warrior of Light shown you theirs?” Thancred follows up, and Urianger shakes his head. “The one that looks like this, at least. I believe the other is shared by our ally in Ishgard.”

“Nay, the match to this mark is most certainly not our adventurer friend. Though perhaps our marks are kindred in another manner.”

“Ah, right, this is your left arm.” Thancred looks as if he might say something else, but Urianger shakes his head.

“If it makes no difference to thee, perhaps we discontinue this conversation.” Urianger doesn’t mean to snap at Thancred, who he does consider to be a friend, but the last thing he wants to think about is his mark, and who it does not belong to.

*

Despite the comfortable friendship that had just begun to develop between the two of them, Urianger distances himself from Alisaie after Moenbryda’s death. When it’s clear he’s not interested in returning her small talk, she leaves again without a word.

He learns about the First, a world threatened by overwhelming Light, and knows that in Hydaelyn’s weakness, those among them with the Echo lack their connection to the Mothercrystal. He will have to be creative to save them all.

When the Scions are framed for murdering the Sultana, Alphinaud mentions that Alisaie orchestrated their escape. Urianger’s influence was exacted that evening as well, but in ways that would not play out for quite a time yet.

Alphinaud, the Warrior of Light, and Tataru flee to Ishgard. The thought of the Warrior of Light, torn between both soulmates in Camp Dragonhead, is bitterly amusing to Urianger. He can relate, in a way. The white, swirling vines that bind both of their souls to one of the Leveilleur twins are accompanied only by cruel irony.

Elidibus introduces him to the Warriors of Darkness. It’s a welcome distraction from both the emotional void left by Moenbryda’s passing and the aetheric void left by Alisaie’s departure.

Urianger’s perceptive enough to notice that Alisaie is nearby when she spies on him, even though the painful physical link between them has dissipated. He can hardly blame her for the suspicion, his actions must look damning from an outside perspective. Sometimes, they look damning from an inside perspective, too.

He hears she’s been fatally wounded and checks his mark to verify, but it’s as bold and visible as ever. He decides not to share this information with the group. He hopes Alisaie will cut her losses and count herself lucky for surviving at all.

Not that she’d ever do that.

The Dragonsong War comes to an end. Nidhogg perishes.

He hears Haurchefant dies defending the Warrior of Light and Urianger offers his condolences. He wonders why Haurchefant shared a mark with the Warrior of Light when Moenbryda did not. He refuses to let this train of thought drag him into a new pit of despair, however, forcing himself to stay focused on the task at hand. One life for one world…

_“Perhaps Nymeia simply has grander plans for us.”_

If the threads of fate were so cruel in one aspect, perhaps they’d allow him this one success.

*

Minfilia (now Her emissary) doesn’t blame him, but Alisaie certainly does.

Alisaie surprises Urianger that day as well. When he sees her summon her aetheric blade for the first time, Urianger finally considers allowing himself to fall in love with her.

Long after the rest of the Scions have (at least publicly) gotten over their resentment towards him for the loss of their antecedent, Alisaie continues to be cold towards Urianger. This offends him in a way that is wholly irrational, considering the injustice he’s committed against them. Urianger would accept everyone else’s ire if it meant Alisaie would forgive him. Or even consider forgiving him.

“I tried not to think the worst. You've never been one to confide in others, so I knew that even were your intentions pure, you would not share your plans with us until you felt the time was right,” Alisaie finally breaks their uncomfortable silence on the Warrior of Light’s insistence. “But I cannot deny that a part of me feared you had simply betrayed us.”

“Would that there had been another way,” Urianger tries to apologize. “Know that I took no pleasure in deceiving thee, and that these sins will forever weigh heavy on my heart.”

She sighs. “I understand why you did what you did. That you but sought to achieve the greatest good while inflicting the least harm. Not many would have the courage to make that choice,” she offers. “But even knowing what came of your actions...I find that I cannot condone them. I'm sorry.”

She allows him to escort her back to the Waking Sands regardless.

Papalymo dies no differently than Louisoix or Moenbryda. Lyse is devastated. Alongside her tattoo, her mark dissipates with his death as well. No one quite has the right words to console her, and instead, insist they’ll take back Ala Mhigo. They’ll defeat the primal that he sacrificed himself to contain. It reminds him of when Moenbryda died, and everyone insisted they’d defeat the Ascians in her honor. Look how well that turned out.

Alisaie is the first to volunteer herself for the cause, and Urianger thinks up the perfect peace offering.

“Impressive.” She inspects the rapier closely. “it feels as though it's attuned to my aether.” _It is, because I am._

She smiles at him like the night she sobbed in his arms, and his heart skips a beat.

Half a moon later, long after Alisaie has likely reached Kugane, Urianger receives an East Aldenard Company crate of Hingashi historical texts, addressed to him but with no note indicating the sender. Not that it needed one.

He follows their adventures as closely as he is able while still maintaining his responsibilities around the Sands. Thancred, in particular, does the closest thing possible to collecting newspaper clippings of Alisaie’s exploits. When Urianger confronts him about this, Thancred’s eyes light up for the first time since Ul’dah, revealing the hopeless romantic he secretly is.

“She is your soulmate, is she not?”

Urianger rolls his eyes, but his goggles dampen the effect of the gesture. Thancred smirks.

“Your secret is safe with me, my friend. Though you could be doing a better job of hiding it.”

*

Alisaie seems surprised to see him there, in Rhalgr’s Reach by her bedside.

“You came all this way just to visit me?”

“Master Alphinaud implied thy wounds might be fatal.”

“Did he, now?” The corner of Alisaie’s mouth curls into a faint smile. “I suppose I should thank him for his exaggeration.”

She beckons him closer, even though the action clearly brings her pain. Urianger steps forward until he’s practically touching the edge of her bed.

She grabs his wrist and pulls his hand towards her, knocking him briefly off his balance until he’s leaning over her. She pulls up his sleeve and runs her fingers over the mark, leaving a tingling sensation behind. “It suits you better, I think.”

Urianger laughs darkly. He’s spent his entire life thinking the opposite.

“I apologize,” She adds, before allowing him control of his arm again. “I know fate and destiny are sort of your _thing_ but…”

The disappointment creeps up on him, “No need-”

“You frustrate me!” She blurts, ignoring his interruption. “I have not been able to stop thinking about you, and I am unsure that the mark is solely to blame. Hells, I’ve spent the past four years fawning over you, and I can hardly tell if you consider me as much as a friend.” She brings up her hand to brush through her hair. Urianger can’t help but note that she looks beautiful with it unbraided. “But you know what? I don’t even mind. All I want is to sit and listen to you explain prophecies as if they’re the most obvious conclusions in the world, despite everyone else finding them cryptic. I want you to try and teach me to summon an amber carbuncle again, though I hate arcana with my entire being.”

Urianger can’t bring himself to look her in the eye, suddenly nervous of all things.

“So I suppose…” She sighs. “I know fate and destiny are your thing, but it seems like you’ve made an exception for me. Perhaps I ought to frame it differently.” Alisaie clears her throat and forces herself to sit up, wincing. “Would you please just give me a chance, not as your soulmate, but as someone who is completely and utterly fascinated by you?”

The girl, nay, _woman_ , looks up at him with hopeful eyes. Urianger is thankful she said what he himself was too cowardly to.

*

“This looks like as good a place as any.” Lyse overlooks the salty Loch, preparing to jump in.

“Ere you dive into the briny deep─”

“Urianger! What are you doing here?” Both she and the Warrior of Light look surprised to see him there.

“Master Alphinaud informed me of your plan” _and Alisaie’s condition_ “and thus did I hasten to your side.” But there are more important things to discuss, “When Mistress Alisaie unfolded to me the tale of her defeat, I was much intrigued by the apparent ease with which Fordola, a theretofore unexceptional warrior, defied my lady’s every attempt to do her harm. After some few days of deliberation, I subsequently contrived what I believe to be a solution to the problem of her preternatural prescience. ‘Twas in hopes of furnishing you with the fruits of my labors that I came.”

“Wait, isn’t that Moenbryda’s─”

He’s taken slightly off guard by her name. “Her aetheric siphon formed the basis for my design. Should my hypothesis prove correct, you need but activate it in her presence. To say more would endanger the plan, for ignorance is your shield.” In her time away from the rest of the Scions, it’s clear that Lyse has changed. He had always considered her unremarkable, maybe a bit tragic, but as she stands with the Warrior of Light, determined to rescue their friend, he finds himself respecting her. “It was…Moenbryda’s time. It is not yours, my friends. May you ever walk in the light of the Crystal…and return.”

“We will─for you and for her.” He feels guilty for at first assuming she’s speaking of Alisaie, but he forgives himself. He’s been thinking of Alisaie a lot lately, after all.

*

Alphinaud later tells Urianger that Alisaie attempted to reason with a beast tribe intent on empowering a primal and, though she didn’t succeed, Alphinaud admits he found the entire exchange inspirational. Terrifying, but inspirational. In conjunction with her nearly dying to rescue Krile, the Warrior of Light practically begs Alisaie to join their party more permanently. After she recovers from her injuries, that is.

True to her word, Alisaie resumes adventuring as soon as she’s able to walk again. But when she’s in Eorzea, she spends her time at the Sands. He learns things about Alisaie he never expected, like that she’s a passable cook, or that she’s got a lovely voice when she thinks no one is listening. She tells him all about X’rhun Tia and how she passed the time in Eorzea before she rejoined the Scions.

Urianger realizes that, for the past dozen years of his life, he’s been too distracted by the idea of Alisaie to get to know the real person behind the mark.

If he learned anything from his relationship with Moenbryda, it’s that life is too short. He refuses to waste any more time with Alisaie. He falls fast, and he falls hard. She’s no less intense, admitting she’s in love with him long before Urianger even fathoms speaking the words aloud.

She reminds Urianger of Moenbryda in some ways. They are both outgoing, headstrong, and brilliant. All theoretical jealousy aside, he thinks the two of them would have been friends.

Alisaie never asks Urianger to compare her to Moenbryda, and for that he is grateful. In reality, his feelings for Moenbryda feel so distant and his feelings for Alisaie so tangible that he can’t honestly answer such a question accurately. Surprising himself, however, Urianger does ask Alisaie if she’s bothered by his past relationship.

“I can only benefit from your experience.” Alisaie smirks and Urianger stutters awkwardly.

He has to physically restrain Thancred from organizing a celebration in their honor when he catches Urianger and Alisaie together. Beyond being mortified, Urianger worries the Scions will judge him for moving on so quickly. His fears are unfounded. Even Lyse, the next closest Scion to Moenbryda after himself, simply smiles at the news and admits she’s suspected the two of them for a while now.

“I’m just happy you two are happy.” Lyse grins and pats Alisaie on the shoulder. She speaks to Urianger with the tone of an overprotective sister, “If you hurt her…”

“Aye, I shall fear thy wrath.” Lyse chuckles at that, pulling him into a hug. The contact is unexpected, but not unpleasant.

Urianger isn’t present when Alisaie tells her brother, but she reveals there were tears involved.

*

Of the two of them, Alisaie is the least religious. Which is why Urianger is surprised when he finds her praying the night before their wedding.

They would marry under Thaliak, both Urianger and Alisaie’s patron deity, but Alisaie looks upon the Ewer, the constellation that represents both halves of the water elemental pair.

“Nymeia, I’m sorry for doubting you.” She mumbles in the direction of the sea, her back facing Vesper Bay. “And cursing your name for the longest time.”

Urianger smiles at the way she apologizes like a child that disobeyed their parents. Nymeia is likely used to being subjected to resentment for more reasons than her mark. He looks up at the constellation and whispers faintly, “Mine apology is much the same.”

Knowing a person’s relationship to the gods is sacred and personal, he leaves. He, too, atoned for his doubts in his own way. His personal altar is a testament to that, more appropriate for a devout of Nymeia in the recent moons.

Until they marry, though, these apologies are but words. When the time comes, they will offer their love and bare their marks before both the Twelve and their loved ones.

There’s no one he’d rather do it with.


End file.
